


if i could make the world as pure

by renwillow



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Clumsiness, M/M, and an alarming amount of spongebob im sorry, barely there, but also fluff, literally the smallest amount of internalized homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-25 23:50:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3829483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renwillow/pseuds/renwillow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>spring break fic where everything goes wrong for louis until it all goes right. or, louis runs over harry with his skateboard and gets a lot more than he expected out of injuring a cute stranger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	if i could make the world as pure

**Author's Note:**

  * For [louismomofficial](https://archiveofourown.org/users/louismomofficial/gifts).



> so this has been an absolute terror to uphold, considering my computer died twice and then i had to buy a new one, so thank you to all the mods for this fic exchange. i haven't written in forever, so this was an amazing opportunity all for the love of fic. 
> 
> title from "pale blue eyes" by the velvet underground. 
> 
> enjoy!

“You’re what?”  
Zayn is possibly the worst thing to ever happen to Louis Tomlinson. Alongside being devastatingly (annoyingly) beautiful and drinking milk straight from the carton, Zayn had the audacity to get sick. What kind of evil friend would have the gall to cancel Louis’ spring break plans?

Zayn wheezes, pale and glassy-eyed from where he lays slumped on the sofa in their shared flat. “I’m sorry bro,” he manages to croak out. Louis answers by narrowing his eyes. This is not what he wanted. In all fairness, Zayn doesn’t seem to be faking it. His normally glowing skin faded, and lithe body buried deep in blankets and discarded tissues both signify his weak state. Healthy Zayn would have been artfully strewn across the sofa, basking in his own glory and comic books. Maybe this wasn’t a plan devised by Zayn to ruin Louis. 

“But, we were gonna road trip it to the beach! Attractive people in swimsuits, Zayn, swimsuits,” Louis whines at his best mate. A chance to abandon their shoddy campus flat in exchange for exotic hotels and flirtatious men was what had gotten the boys halfway through the semester. And now he was watching his golden wall of plans dismally crumble before his eyes, and his own best friend is the traitorous TNT. 

Zayn apologizes again, burrowing further into his swaddle, and rolls over. Louis rolls his eyes at the muffled “good night” Zayn utters from where his face is smashed into the sofa cushion. “Do you want me to get you anything?” Louis asks in softer tone. Because while he way be snarky, he does love Zayn and would find it quite tragic if Zayn died (and a waste of cheekbones). Zayn responds by shaking his head, or what Louis assumes to be his head. 

“Alright mate. Get some rest then. I’m gonna go skate down to the pharmacy and see if I can get you some cold medicine. Remember how much you value me, you dream crusher,” Louis grumbles as he pulls his Vans on and grabs his beat-up skateboard, creaking the thin door open. “Be back in a bit.”

While he may forgive Zayn for being human, he hasn’t forgotten his past hopes of margaritas and sunshine, so maybe he lets the door smack extra hard in the frame on his way out. Maybe. He shuffles his way through the hallways and down the rickety stairs from their flat on the second floor, all the while dragging his skateboard behind him. The skateboard had actually been a gift from Zayn before uni, when Louis was just a beginner. Zayn had spray-painted various vibrant designs over a beautifully blended aqua and indigo background, making the bottom of the board look like a rare oceanic treasure. 

And while Zayn may be the current arch nemesis in Louis' life, he has always been Louis' best friend since primary school. From the awkward growth spurts, to the simultaneous big gay freakouts (which somehow never led to any experimenting), Zayn has always been a source of quiet creativity and flowing personality. His laidback mentality and artistic schedule led him to spend many days and nights with Louis, contemplating the stars and smoking crappy weed to feel cool. Their friendship remains solid, and Louis will always be grateful for that. Even if he currently wishes to chuck Zayn into a vat of cough medicine and leave him to drown. Semantics. 

When he hits the pavement, Louis drops his board and kicks off towards the pharmacy, wistfully thinking of what this week could have been for him. Namely, alcohol, tanning, and relaxation. He hates to be a bitter friend, but spring break is the pinnacle of uni shenanigans, and now he has to spend it on an abandoned campus with none of wish list. The pavements normally filled with atrocious amounts of students was now empty, allowing Louis to zip past dormitory buildings and lecture halls. Of course the pharmacy is fucking across campus, Louis pouts to himself. Nothing is going right today. 

He wonders what his family is doing, how his mom is holding up with the recent birth of twins, and makes a mental note to visit this week now that his schedule his cleared. He still barely knows his youngest siblings, the tiny babies being only a few months old and two hours away from his uni. Another thing to work on, family. Louis has been so busy with uni recently he hasn't given himself the time he needs to visit his younger sisters (and brother, finally) so he can watch them grow. Although he doesn't want to change any diapers. He just wants to be done with obligations and relax, which is what this week was supposed to be. 

But beneath his sulky mentality, Louis isn’t as petulant as he wants to be. The ride is almost peaceful. He can push his body to work while feeling the wind whip through his hair and the bumps of the pavements test his balance. He still misses footie practices from his old team, how he would work his body into oblivion to improve. But everyone has to grow up eventually, and Louis knows he's not meant to be a footie star. No matter what his Nana tells him. He kicks himself faster, finding a way to entertain himself in wake of realizing he’s spending his week in the drab weather surrounding him. He builds speed quickly, aiming to round a corner smoothly and-

Louis is flying. Louis is hurtling towards the ground. Louis is smacking his body on top of unidentified object. Louis is guessing that he did not turn that corner smoothly. 

“Oops,” comes a muffled voice from beneath him. And oh, Louis must have taken someone out. But his scraped ankles are biting at him and his is still so very confused. Louis looks down beneath him where a mop of long curly hair lays disheveled, and this mass of creatures has its limbs flailed across the pavements. And shit, Louis just hit someone.

“Mate, I’m so sorry I didn’t even see you!” Louis sputters out as he pulls himself off of the guy and slides on the pavement beside him. The concrete does little for his sore bum, but he figures it’s more polite than continuing to sit on his victim. The boy pulls himself into an upright position and shakes his hair out of his face. And. Wow. He’s fucking gorgeous. Of course he is. Louis apparently isn’t meant to have anything go right this week. His curls reveal a wide-eyed boy with soft pale skin and a jawline that could rival Zayn’s. But what really fucks the whole thing up is the bleeding scratch scaling from underneath the boy’s green eyes and reaching down to his slightly popped dimple. 

But despite the boy’s clear injury, he clears the shock off his face and offers a smile at Louis. “It’s okay. No harm done,” he replies affably, rubbing his scratched palms onto his jeans. When clearly, harm is done.

Louis is confused. “No harm done? I just mauled you with my speeding body and your face is bleeding!” Louis blurts out. The unnamed stranger just wrinkles his adorable brows and raises long fingers to his cheek. Upon discovering the blood dripping down the side of his face, the boy widens his eyes, as if he hadn’t even noticed the wound. He then gives a grin at Louis at lets out a goofy “oh” at his rumpled state. Louis starts to apologize again, really starting to feel terrible, but the boy buts him off with a laugh. “Honestly, I’m just as clumsy on my own, so I probably would have ended up on the ground anyways,” the boy jokes. And Louis is even more confused. Why is this beautiful creature being so nice to him? Since when does Louis deserve the forgiveness of an angel? Louis snaps himself out of his stupor and shakily moves to stand up. He reaches an unsure hand towards the boy, silently offering help to right the boy again.

Stabbing at Louis’ heart with yet another dimply smile, the boy grabs his hand and stands up. AS soon as he is on his feet, Louis notices the gracefulness of the boy’s slender frame, his thin legs painted in black skinny jeans. And, okay. This is not Louis’ day. First he loses his holiday, then he injures an innocent bystander who happens to be the boy of Louis’ dreams. 

Louis grimaces at the boy’s scrapes, feeling awkwardness settle into the moment. He doesn’t know this boy, and he certainly doesn’t know the etiquette for treating his skateboard catastrophe victims. He reaches down to pick up his skateboard, which had been chucked onto the grass lawn 3 feet away, and makes an attempt to fix his mess.

“I’m really sorry, mate. I’m about to pop into the pharmacy to grab some stuff, and I can get a little kit to patch that up for you. Or like a candy bar if you demand retribution or whatever,” he mumbles out. Why Louis? Why ask that boy to accompany you? Why would you want to draw out your own mortification? He inwardly is banging his head against a metal wall, wishing to vanish, when his internal tirade is interrupted by soft laughter.

He looks up, surprised to see mystery model smiling at him with what Louis is pretty sure is not hate or anger, which is fine by Louis. “I don’t demand retribution,” he giggles to himself, “but I probably should get this cleaned up before I terrify someone. I look like a mess." The boy point to his jeans, and Louis notices a large hole ripped in the inner thigh of the boy's jeans. He guesses he did that too. Why doesn't this guy hate him? Before Louis can utter another painful apology, the boy cuts him off saying, "Don't apologize, I don't mind the rips. Adds character. And now I have a new story to tell. My name's Harry by the way."

Louis is still reeling internally from this boy’s beauty, so the kindness and easy going attitude exhibited by the boy is really giving him heart palpitations. Louis doesn't handle stress very well, and at this point he's not really sure what to or say or whether it's time for him to float off into space to never be heard from again, but when he watches the boy start to shift hesitantly on his feet, he remembers. Name. Yeah. That. "I'm Louis. I'm gonna keep apologizing until you don't look like you've been mugged." Harry gives him another crooked smile and replies. "Well Louis, I'm honored to have been your landing pad. But my face really burns so maybe we should go get something to clean it before I die of disease. Who knows what has been on this pavement?"

Louis nods, amused by Harrys quirky sense of humour and starts to move his body towards the corner store, Harry falling in step beside him. Louis kept silent, not sure what to even say when all he wanted to do was bolt or kiss the curly boy next to him. Harry, however, seemed comfortable easing in and out of conversation, asking "If you don't mind me prying, what are you still doing here. The campus is a ghost town, and I've not seen anyone in my building all day. It's like everyone disappeared without a trace this morning." At the mention of spring break plans, Louis slightly deflates. "Well I was supposed to road trip with my flat mate Zayn, but he's ill so he's in bed and I'm stuck here by default," he pauses to make an irked face. "But I didn't want to abandon him, so I was just gonna chill here. Maybe visit my family back in Doncaster. Louis almost feels like he has overshared, unusually nervous around a guy. Even with his last boyfriend he had never felt so unsure. Louis is confident. Louis is charismatic. Louis has a fantastic arse. He quickly asks “What about you?” to cover up his own insecurity and inability to function properly.

Harry actually frowns a bit at the question, and shit, Louis just thought he was being polite by asking the question in return. Is he prying? Is he really such a slob that he gives negative outward vibes that make this innocent flower of a boy uncomfortable? Before he can further mentally lash himself, Harry gives him a subdued answer. “Well, I haven’t actually got plans since I haven’t made any friends since I’ve been here. I’m only a freshman, but I transferred here a little while ago and haven’t gotten out too much. I’ve been so busy with moving and organizing my coursework that I have just been a bit of a recluse other than one person. And I think people think I’m weird.”

Louis looks the boy up and down. Weird? The boy is gorgeous and charismatic and easygoing and Louis is still confused. He supposes the shoulder length hair probably could probably make some jocks uncomfortable, and maybe the extremely tight skinny jeans threaten the masculinity of the same homophobic dicks that seem to lurk the campus everywhere. But weird? All Louis sees is lovely.

Louis is apparently so caught up in his own admiration that he forgets his socially adequate filter and blurts out his thoughts, “I think you’re lovely. Weird is good. Don’t feel bad about yourself for things you can’t control.” And shit. Louis went there. He always does this, always forgets to think first godammit, but now he sounds like a cheesy talk show host trying to console stay-at-home mums for being uncomfortable in their new yoga classes. Fuck. 

But when he glances sideways at Harry, he almost melts. Harry’s cheeks are tinged pink and he coughs into his hands, shooting Louis an honest, grateful smile. Louis could watch those precious dimples pop forever. (Precious? Forever? Louis really needs a vacation because he is losing it.) Harry lets out a soft “thank you,” sounding sincere and touched and Louis would write a book about this boy to let him know each and every lovely thought Louis has had about him since he sent them reeling to the ground. That is, if Louis was a sap and he didn’t have a mission to complete.

Louis steps into the little pharmacy, clearing his throat and attempting to clear his mind in the same easy fashion. “So, uh. I think you can get something to clean that up and a plaster or something like that. I’ve gotta get medicine for Zayn. So just meet me the register in a few and I’ll pay for everything.” At the first sign of Harry’s protest, Louis cuts him off, saying “It’s the least I can do. Honestly.” 

Harry sends Louis another smile, sending Louis into another deep pit of despair, and turns into an aisle to search for something for his poor cheek. Louis watches him go, endeared by the rip in the boy’s pant leg as it flaps in the air with Harry’s each swinging step. Louis put that there. Louis has already made his mark on this boy and—and Louis needs to get a grip. Harry didn’t come here out of free will; he came out of need for medical care. Also, Zayn. Sick. Important. Right. 

Louis grabs a small box of maximum strength cold and flu medicine, hoping that will do the trick. He also picks up several bags of sweets, considering he never outgrew that part of his childhood. Among many other things (ask Zayn about the time Louis poured soy sauce and sprite in Zayn’s beloved diet coke bottle). He plucks an extra bag of gummy bears for Zayn, peering through the plastic wrapping to make sure the package has a sufficient amount of red ones. Once he thinks he has covered enough sweets to cover what will be a miserable, not-in-sunshine week, he heads close to the check-out line to seek out Harry. 

Louis’ heart constricts when he lays eyes on the boy, who is clutching a box of SpongeBob plasters and cooing over a puppy sitting at his feet. Harry’s obvious heart eyes at the tiny dog are almost as strong as the ones Louis knows he is projecting at the curly-haired softie. Honestly, he has to control himself until this turns into a messy Romeo and Juliet love story. Except his feelings are not reciprocated and he’s pretty sure that death by gummy bears won’t end it all as quickly as he would like it to. Louis is outdoing himself in dramatic thoughts today. He just needs to deliver this boy back to his flat and then go home and properly sulk and move on with his life. His sad, pathetic, life. 

He approaches Harry and watches the boy give the puppy one last, longing pat before standing up and turning to Louis with a bright grin. His teeth are bright white and gleaming against his pretty pink lips, holding Louis in arrest as he dumbly attempts to gesture towards the check-out line. He shuffles over to place his crap on the counter, smirking at the ridiculous box of SpongeBob plasters still in Harry’s hands. Harry stands behind him, gently sliding the plasters onto the counter to have them rung up. At the sight of Louis’ amused smirk, he falters.

“What? I like SpongeBob,” he stammers out, plastering a smile onto his face to cover up the layer of insecurity that Louis can easily detect. And, oh. Harry thinks that everyone finds him weird. Louis feels guilt creep into his stomach, making it squirmy and sad. He finds it adorable and sweet and silly that Harry picked up the childish box, and now he feels like utter shit for that Harry would think anything else. He doesn’t understand why harry is so unsure, but it gives him a sinking feeling and makes him want to cuddle the boy close. 

But he can’t do that, so instead he offers Harry the most genuine smile he can muster and reassures him, “Spongebob is a staple on my telly. You’re not being judged.” At his words, Harry’s stiff shoulders loosen into a more relaxed stance. His smile loses its weak edge, and Louis hopes he’s conveyed the acceptance and friendliness that Harry has shown him. He wants Harry to know that Louis is not going to hurt him. Well, besides the whole skateboard mishap. 

The check-out girl silently rings them up, giving Harry an obvious once-over, but Harry only gives the girl a polite smile in return, seemingly oblivious to her roaming eyes. Louis is silent agreement with the poor girl, but at the same time he feels a prickle of jealousy. He doesn’t want Harry to give attention to that girl, not when she’s staring at the boy like that. Louis has a habit of getting ahead of himself, he is well aware. But right now he feels a little (a lot) overwhelmed by his sudden strength of feelings for the friendly stranger beside him.

After paying with a few crinkled bills from his joggers, (which he may have been wearing yesterday, but that’s no one’s business), he exits the pharmacy. He finds himself at a loss of what to do, handing Harry the cleansing wipes and plasters that the boy had picked out. Louis’ not really sure where Harry’s headed, nor does he know if he has a responsibility to help this boy clean his cheek, or if he should offer to buy the boy a new pair of jeans, but he doesn’t even know where to buy jeans that tight, and he’s overthinking again. He stops at the street corner, grabbing his skateboard from where he left it hidden behind a small bush, and shifts on his feet, waiting for Harry to act. 

Harry stays silent for a few moments after thanking Louis for the supplies, and they both occupy themselves by staring at their shoes. Fuck, Louis does not want this to be the last time he sees Harry, but he doesn’t even know the boy and he’s not exactly smooth enough to ask Harry for his number. He doesn’t even know if Harry’s gay. He doesn’t even know Harry’s last name, and he sure as hell doesn’t think his flat is a perfect place to woo the boy, considering Zayn has infected the entirety of their flat.

Harry speaks first, breaking the silence with another small cough. Louis notices that Harry does that a lot, like a nervous tick. “Um, thank you again for all this. I know you didn’t mean to hit me earlier, so it was really sweet of you to buy me all this stuff. I probably would have been the one to have run into you if this was any other day. I’m so clumsy,” Harry says with a little half laugh. Louis smiles back at him, responding almost too quickly. “My pleasure. I could have hit anyone, so I’m lucky it was someone as friendly as you. I could have been sued!” 

Harry giggles at Louis’s terrible joke, and Louis would do anything to see that goofy laugh again. He’s afraid of coming on too strong, but he just wants to be the boy’s friend at least. Fuck it. He and Harry both have nothing to do all week, he’s gonna go for it. As Louis is about to ask the boy for his number, Harry cuts him off. “This might be weird,” he starts. And god Louis hates that the boy keeps saying weird. He would do anything to have Harry know that weird isn’t bad, weird is what has Louis enamored. Harry continues on, “but I really think you’re funny and I’m so lonely and you’ve been so nice to me,” he rushes out, stopping to catch his breath. “What I’m trying to ask is if you’d like to hang out or something today? Or sometime time this week?” After a beat, he tacks on “Don’t say yes just because you feel bad for me.”

Louis grins widely, silently thanking the heavens for blessing him with good fortune. He would rather do nothing else, and he’s glad Harry feels whatever they have too. He’s glad that he didn’t have to be the one to speak first; he doesn’t trust himself to say what he actually means. Harry is so open and honest, and Louis wants to hug the boy and wrap him up in his favorite blanket covered in Spiderman masks (a gift from Zayn, of course). Which can actually be a possibility now that Louis has asked Louis to hang out, and shit Louis needs to formulate an answer before Harry feels rejected.

As Louis expects, Harry is worrying his lip between his teeth and Louis really wishes that he could just get his crap together because all the poor boy wants is a friend. Louis is perfectly fine with friendship. Harry doesn’t have to know that Louis is dying on the inside with each adorable nervous twitch Harry lets out as he waits for Louis to answer. 

So Louis gives the boy a warm smile, trying to emit acceptance, and says “I’d love to, mate. I gotta drop this stuff off for Zayn but afterwards we can hang at yours or something? If that’s okay?” Louis knows that if he was an excellent friend, he would cook Zayn soup and rent him films and stay in and keep the boy company. But Zayn is also the type of person that would probably not be impressed by any of that, and would roll over to snooze for another few hours while Louis dies of boredom. So Louis isn’t too guilty about leaving Zayn alone in the flat for the day after a quick check-in. Zayn would probably appreciate the quiet anyways, considering most days he is pleading Louis to just turn the stupid baking shows down, Lou! 

Harry’s furrowed brow erupts into an easy grin at Louis’ suggestion. Louis is proud of himself for creating something so beautiful, so pure, and wow, Louis is definitely aiming for more of those if he has control over how this day is going to go. Louis doesn’t really want to part from the boy, so he invites Harry back to his flat with him just to keep Harry close and smiling. They trudge back on the uneven pavements, Louis holding his skateboard in one hand and swinging the bag of sweets in the other. They talk about menial things, like classes and telly and Harry keeps slipping puns into their conversations, causing Louis to begrudgingly laugh. Harry talks about his day, endearing Louis with long stales of tripping over himself and shouting at the telly during the Great British Bake Off. And Louis mentions the time he knocked over an entire fruit display a year ago, a story that he normally is too embarrassed to mention, but with the way Harry is doubled over, clutching his knees while he laughs, Louis isn’t really afraid of being judged. He trusts Harry. He doesn’t really know the boy that well, clearly. But Harry has not broken his presentation of cheeky and goofy, so Louis believes the boy to be genuine.

Quicker than it feels, Louis is stopped in front of his flat building. He’s not really sure if he comes across as too forward when he gestures for Harry to enter the building before him, but he doesn’t want to leave Harry outside alone. Someone could like, steal him. And then Louis would be a very sad boy. So he directs Harry up to the second floor and to the scratched door of his tiny two-bedroom flat, and cautiously opens the door so as not to wake up sleeping beauty on the sofa. 

He steps inside, quietly dropping in the bags on the floor and rolling his skateboard in the direction of his room. Louis nears the sofa, turning back to wave Harry inside, who has been peering around the open door like a polite girl scout. He shakes Zayn awake, rolling the boy’s limp body over until Zayn lets out a garbled “what?”

“I brought you medicine. And gummy bears. Before you ask, I definitely checked to make sure there were red ones,” he tells Zayn, who was still blinking through glassy eyes. Zayn lets outs a disgruntled hack in response. Good enough, Louis supposes. “Do you need anything else?” Louis asks, trying to be a supportive friend (and maybe a little bit trying to show Harry that he can be caring). Zayn however, is really lost. He sits up, eyes widened, and says shakily “Lou, do you see a person in here or am I hallucinating. Oh my god.”

Louis takes a few seconds to respond, weighing whether he wants to be cruel and prank Zayn, which, of course, is a no-brainer. Because as weak as Zayn might be, Louis will never turn down an opportunity to raise hell. Louis arranges his face into a confused frown and pretends to look around as convincingly as he can, asking “who?” Louis shoots Harry a pleading look, ad Harry gives a small mischievous nod, catching on and going along with it. Even though Harry is startlingly unthreatening with his flowy hair and dimples, Zayn is clearly shaken and lays back down with and raises a pallid head to his forehead. “Bring me some pills please,” he mournfully requests. Louis struggles with stifling down his laughter, because this, this is pure gold. 

He hands the pills to Zayn with a small glass of water and hands it to Zayn, who has shut his eyes and almost fallen back asleep. Sloppily pressing the pills onto his tongue, Zayn creeps his eyes open to give Harry one last suspicious glare before rolling out and passing out. Louis shakes with laughter, and guides Harry’s elbow to the door. He snatches his bag of gummy fish, in case, you know, Harry likes that stuff, and heads back outside.

Once Harry is in the hallway, he lets out a big guffaw, slapping his hand over his mouth and struggling to breath. And Louis finds himself catch his breath, still laughing over the situation while simultaneously being floored by the sparkling radiance Harry lets out with each gasping breath. Louis is fucked. 

“Someday you’re gonna have to tell him,” Harry stumbles out, still attempting to even his breathing. Louis likes that. Someday. As if this is only the beginning of something long and something extraordinarily beautiful. God, Louis needs to get out more often. Louis gifts Harry with what he knows is a bright smile, hoping his obvious admiration isn’t too overbearing. “Nah, we should make a whole elaborate plan, convince Zayn that all the weed is finally getting to him. This can be excellent revenge for all the times he’s used my special shampoo,” Louis says with a devious smirk. He may have just let out the fact that he has a special shampoo, but. Harry’s too pretty for him to care right now.

Harry evens out his expression into a peaceful, gleeful smile. Harry just seems to send out vibes of good will, like a lanky, green-eyed daisy. If that even makes sense, (Louis knows it doesn’t, but he like to compare Harry to a pretty flower anyways). Harry directs Louis to his dormitory building, only a few streets away from Louis’. Louis really wishes he had run into the boy sooner, he would have befriended the boy as quickly as he had today and saved Harry a lot of heartache. Weird, Louis thinks to himself. Weird doesn’t even mean anything. Weird is relative. 

Harry leads Louis through the deserted campus, describing how he had almost fallen down the stairs this morning by stepping on a banana peel, (“Because really Louis, how cliché would it be for me to break a leg because of that?”). Louis finds himself growing ever fonder of the boy, listening to his almost lethargic, precise speech pattern, enjoying the antithesis of Harry’s slow speech with his witty, charisma. It makes him endeared by the boy all the more, Harry’s startling uniqueness dazzling Louis with the force of a thousand comets. It doesn’t seem like it should make sense, Harry’s flowing hair and soft demeanor with his clear boyish build, all projecting the kind of fluid but timid confidence Louis has never witnessed firsthand. Harry’s like a star just about to explode, on the brink of being a brilliant supernova, just waiting for the spark to let him be something big, something that shines much brighter than a star ever could. Louis hopes, quietly, deep down, that maybe he could be that spark. Maybe. 

But for now Harry is struggling to enter the short code in the main doors to unlock his dormitory building.  
His long, graceful fingers apparently can’t focus when he’s laughing, and Louis knows he isn’t helping by narrating Harry’s actions in a ridiculous Morgan Freeman-like voice, but he likes to hear the boy giggle. It’s something so comfortable to Louis, being able to slip into his childish humour so easily in ways he has reserved for only close friends. He doesn’t’ worry that Harry will judge him, only watches him maneuver with a gentle, bumbling gait. And it all makes Louis’ heart ache with the fond he feels drowning his heart.

He barely even knows the boy, but wants to hold him close and snuggle him up between the late nights of studying and long days of uni coursework. Harry leads Louis up to his apartment, smiling at one other student who seems to have stayed behind to lurk on campus during spring break. “So, anyways, when I last left my apartment, I tripped and ripped this same pair of jeans right in the bum, but luckily I could buy a little sewing kit and could sew them back up,” he turns behind to give Louis a little twist of a self-depreciating smile, “so luckily I should be able to do the same with this rip,” he let outs, pointing to the revealing hole in his thigh. 

Harry leads Louis to a door at the end of a long hallway, one with small sign depicting “Harry’s Room” on it wish a small, impish smiley face next to it. Harry unlocks the door, but stops before he opens it, turning to Louis and saying, “It’s kinda still being put into to place, so please, no judgment.” Louis lets out a bark of laughter, “You just saw my place, and it’s a literal mess so if anyone should be judging, it’s you.” Harry just smiles in return and twists open the doorknob to lead Louis into a small, neat room. 

A bed is pushed against the far wall, covered in cozy blankets underneath a small window. A desk sits on the wall to the right of the bed, covered in neatly stacked books and doodles spread across the tops of notebooks and recipe books. The walls are covered in pictures and antique postcards, painting Harry’s sentimental heart across the tiny room. A small stack of clothes sits next to a wardrobe covered in the posters of obscure indie bands, and Louis adores the eccentric personality portrayed by such a small space. 

Louis stands awkwardly, not really sure what Harry deems acceptable in guest behavior. He toes off his Vans, and while bent over, he hears Harry let out a soft chuckle. “What?” he asks, getting a little insecure. Harry points to Louis’ feet, “Are those superhero socks?” Louis feels himself blush pink, and okay, they might be nerdy but Louis loves those socks. “They’re Spiderman, thank you,” he says petulantly, “and they’re awesome.” Harry seems to appreciate Louis’ confidence, giving an answering smile and flopping onto his bed. He pulls open his laptop, asking “So, do you want to watch a movie?” 

Louis nods, sitting beside Harry on the small bed, keeping a good two feet between them. He doesn’t want to make Harry uncomfortable, even though he dying to snuggle the younger boy into his side. Harry however, taking it upon himself to scoot closer to Louis and pull the laptop onto both of their laps, gently forcing Louis to in close proximity. And Louis is definitely okay with that. Louis watches as a movie starts to fade into the screen noticing out of the corner of his eye that Harry is watching him with a suspiciously wide grin. He gets it once the beginning of the SpongeBob Movie begins to play, laughing and letting out an amused smile at Harry’s indignant “What?” Harry is so clever but childlike, and it keeps Louis on his toes, having to make sure he doesn’t radiate his clear attraction onto the poor boy. 

They watch the stupid movie, pausing for snack breaks, including one break when Louis has to cover his eyes so Harry could strip off his ripped pants and slide into comfy pajamas, (Harry didn’t even ask him to look away, Louis did it for his own self-control). Harry offers Louis a pair, which Louis gladly accepts, stripping right in front of the other boy in hopes to send a signal. But Harry seems to be unaffected by the closeness they’ve achieved in only one day together. His SpongeBob plaster applied to his cheek crinkles when he laughs, morphing SpongeBob’s smiling teeth into a confusing mess that Louis laughs at for at least 5 minutes. 

Hours pass, movies started and stopped amidst gummy fights, and plasters get applied to fingers (namely Harry’s) after someone repeatedly pricks his finger while laughing when sewing up his pants. Honestly, Louis is in deep. Honestly. He doesn’t even realize that the light is no longer filtering through Harry’s small window until it’s nearing half nine and they’re arguing over the choice of their 4th movie. “But it’s Titanic, Lou! How can you not love that movie?” Harry shrieks, wrestling Louis for the laptop. 

Louis tries to disregard the Lou Harry had so easily called him, trying to keep himself steeled for battle. “Because it’s depressing and cheesy, you sap!” Louis responds with none of the venom he wanted to muster up. Harry just gives Louis a cheeky grin and pulls the laptop out of his reach, giving Louis no choice but to launch himself at the younger boy. This is war, after all. He ends up on top of Harry, grabbing for the laptop, making sure not to crush it or the boy, but clearly going in for the win. He starts uncontrollably cackling at Harry’s shocked expression, pulling the laptop out of Harry’s hands and pinning his wrists down. He’s so caught up in his own pride at his victory that he doesn’t notice that Harry has gone completely still until too late. 

Harry is looking at Louis with a visibly upset look, and fuck, Louis has crossed the line. He always does this, he always smothers people too soon, and that’s why Zayn is one of his few friends that he lets himself be completely himself with and fuck. He scrabbles off of Harry, pushing himself back against the wall, mumbling out a quick “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—“ he doesn’t even finish because he’s not even sure what exactly he has done, but Harry looks so mortified, biting down on his lip and eyes tearing up that Louis knows he fucked up. Maybe Harry’s super straight and uncomfortable, but Louis thought maybe they were in a silent understanding of attraction, but he guesses not. 

Harry lets out a distressed gasp, eyes flickering down to his crotch, and oh. Oh. “Oh, shit,” he whispers because Harry is hard because of Louis, and wow. Now Louis’ in uncharted territory. He’s not even sure what to do, but Harry is silently keeping his eyes lowered, and this is definitely not how Louis wanted this to go. He doesn’t say anything, so confused and mildly turned on, leaving Harry to interpret his cursing to himself. Harry must take it the wrong way, face crumpling and letting out a trembling “Sorry, I told y-you that I was w-weird.”

Louis’ heart breaks because gay isn't weird, and this boy is clearly in the closet or freshly out, because Louis has been there before and no. Louis is not gonna let this precious boy feel this way. If only he can get his mind and mouth to cooperate. He stutters out a “What?” because honestly, everything is happening fast and he just wants to kiss the concern and embarrassment off Harry’s face. He tries to push down the excitement he feels (because he actually turned Harry on???) and reached towards the boy, tugging him upwards by his wrists.

Harry’s lax body comes easily, but he sniffles without making eye contact with Louis. “Hey,” Louis gently says, and when Harry keeps his eyes downcast, Louis repeats himself, “hey, look at me.” Harry slowly raises his eyes, bottom lip wobbling when he meets Louis’ gaze. “Gay isn't weird. There’s nothing wrong with being gay.” Harry’s face starts to relax, but he still seems so embarrassed and upset at himself and it kills Louis. “Unless you think I’m weird?” Louis adds on, giving Harry an attempt at a playful smile to let Harry know his feelings are definitely reciprocated. And at that, Harry’s eyes widen and his mouth parts a little. 

Louis’ almost sad that Harry is this shocked that a boy could like him back because Harry is the sweetest thing he has ever had the pleasure to comfort. Leaning closer, Harry seems to gain his confidence back, muttering, “Well, you are a little weird,” at Louis. And face to face, Louis can see hope reflecting in Harry’s eyes, and he just. Just moves closer and places his lips onto Harry’s. 

Harry lets out an adorable, surprised gasp and sags into the kiss, moving his lips against Louis’. Louis has to actually stop kissing Harry because he’s smiling so hard, feeling the smile mirrored onto Harry’s face, where tears are still drying. “Nothing wrong with a little weird,” Louis says, barely able to form the words because his face is starting to ache from his wide smile. Harry’s face splits into a beautiful mess of dimples and shiny teeth, and Luis only met the boy today but he’s already picturing a forever.

His though process is interrupted by Harry, who tugs him backwards on top of the younger boy, letting Harry attack his faces with kisses and gleeful sighs. Louis isn’t even sure any of this is still real, but Harry is here and warm underneath him and that’s good enough for now. They kiss lazily for what seems like forever, until they are both twined around each other, comfortably entangled. Harry reaches for the laptop, opening it up to Titanic again. Louis lets out a loud groan, theatrical enough to send Harry into a fit of giggles. Harry sits up, sending Louis a pouty lip and a “pwetty please?” which of course, makes Louis give in. (Because even if he has to watch that ridiculous film, he gets to kiss Harry’s devastated face three hours later when admittedly, he himself is tearing up at the terrible ending. Stupid iceberg.)

They realize it’s after midnight and Louis should probably go home, but. Harry asks him to stay, sweetly batting his lashes at Louis and offering him an extra blanket. And shit, Louis might have to actually thank Zayn for getting sick, but he’ll do that later. Because right now Harry is cuddling close to Louis and mumbling something about breakfast cafes in the morning and Louis has completely been sunk into the tranquil sea that is Harry is. Also, he’s pretty sure they don’t even know each other’s last names. Oh well, that can be breakfast talk.

 

And in the morning, they stumble out to a small restaurant in in their comfy clothes and share fruit and tea. And watching Harry giggle over the top of a mug, Louis decides that Harry’s last name won’t even matter soon, because he’s already planning on making that boy a Tomlinson someday. He tells him he loves him a month later, surprising Harry during a random breakfast conversation, causing Harry to be so surprised he almost chokes on a grape.

And Harry, Harry takes every opportunity when meeting people, including reintroducing himself to Zayn, to say “Louis just swept me off my feet—literally” before launching into the story of how they met. Through it all, Louis keeps his stupid skateboard and even attempts to teach Harry how to skate, which is clearly a bad idea, but Harry was begging to try. They whip out the SpongeBob plasters again that time, Harry letting Louis tease him mercilessly at Harry’s clumsiness again. 

Harry meets Louis’ baby siblings, cooing over their small onesies, making Louis fall in love with him all over again, and watching as his siblings and mother do so for their first. Harry melds so quickly into the cracks in Louis’ life, until eventually he doesn't even remember a life without him. 

It’s all quite adorable and everything Louis thought he might never have, watching Harry growing out his hair longer and shine brighter, exchanging gentle “I love you”s whenever they can just because they can. And to Louis, weird will never be the same. 

Weird is love.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading. when i have time again, i may write a sequel, if anyone is interested. comments and criticism are welcome!


End file.
